Chapter seven
Pops approached Kermit’s desk, holding the money and receipts from that night’s ticket sales. Everyone turned and looked at him in silence. Kermit usually asked about the tickets as soon as Pops made it backstage. Tonight, no one wanted to know.
“Uh, how’s the new light, Clifford?” Kermit asked, breaking the silence.
“Up and working, Kerm,” Clifford said.
“Good,” Kermit said. “Rizzo? Are we all set for props?”
“Almost,” Rizzo said. “We need one more bale of hay for next week.”
Scooter made a note on his clipboard.
“Rowlf?” Kermit said. “Are we okay with the music?”
“We’re already practicing for the summer show,” Rowlf said. “The band definitely likes the new music.”
“Alright,” Kermit said. “Uh, Pepe, do we have permission for everything for
Under the Weeping Willow?”
“Si, we’re all set, okay,” Pepe said.
“Good,” Kermit said. “Um... now remember, we have two weeks left to opening night of
Under the Weeping Willow. We have one more show left between now and then, and after that it’s just solid rehearsals. So um... that should be it for tonight except...” he looked at Pops. He couldn’t delay anymore. He sighed. “How many tickets did we sell, Pops?”
All eyes were on the old man. “Seventeen,” he said.
Kermit nodded and they all looked down in silence for a moment.
“Go home,” Kermit said.
They hesitated, wanting to comfort him somehow. But they couldn’t. Scooter set his clipboard on the desk and they shuffled out the door. Beauregard stopped and put a hand on the frog’s back.
“Don’t worry, Kermit,” he said. “It’s like Buddy Rich told me: there’s always one step further down you can go.”
Kermit looked him in the eyes. “Go home, Beau,” he said.
The janitor shrugged and walked out.
Kermit stood in front of his desk for a long time. He walked out onto the empty stage and looked out at the empty audience. He looked up at the empty balcony, down at the empty band pit, and to the left and right at the empty wings. Everything was empty. He was empty, too. He felt nothing as he closed down the theater. He didn’t want to go home. He knew that no pay cuts could save them now. They needed something bigger.
The light haired man at the corner played a slow, mournful tune. Kermit barely heard the song at all. He didn’t stop to listen, he didn’t even slow down. He tossed a quarter into the hat without even thinking about it. And he walked on.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The boarding house was full of low murmurs. It was late, but none of them wanted to sleep. Robin kept watch out the window as they spoke amongst themselves in low tones.
“We have to take pay cuts,” Fozzie said. “It’s the only way.”
“We know that,” Rowlf said. “But how do we convince Kermit?”
“We’ve been trying to all week,” Scooter said.
“Yeah, but now his defense is gone,” Floyd said. “There’s no way he can tell us we’re okay with that audience.”
“Rully,” Janice said. “But like, who should talk to him about it?”
“Yeah, and what should they say?” Dr. Teeth asked.
They thought about it. “Well what if-“ Fozzie started to say.
“He’s here!” Robin called.
The house fell silent and all eyes turned to the door. The knob turned and the door opened slowly. Kermit stepped in, looking down at his feet. They watched silently as he closed the door and walked up the stairs, not talking to anyone, keeping his eyes to the ground. They heard his bedroom door close and they turned to look at each other.
“We have to help Kermie somehow,” Miss Piggy said. They nodded. But what could they do?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Officer Bill Dakota watched from the unmarked van as a dark shadow of a figure approached the theater.
“Looks like we’ve got trouble,” he said. “Alex, call for backup. I’m going in.”
“Right,” the other officer said. “Good luck.”
Dakota slipped out of the van and followed the figure inside.
The figure’s all-knowing step had already led it across the lobby and it was picking the next lock when the door suddenly flew open and a flashlight was glaring on him.
“POLICE! FREEZE!”
The figure dropped to its hands and knees and rolled across the floor into Officer Dakota’s legs, knocking him to the ground and sending the flashlight rolling away. The two of them were instantly on their feet. The figure sent a punch towards Dakota’s head. Dakota caught the hand and twisted it, spinning the figure through the air and landing it on its back. Dakota pushed the figure onto its stomach and reached for his hand cuffs. The figure rolled onto its back and lunged upwards, clamping its hands around the man’s neck. Dakota grabbed the figure’s neck. He pulled them into a roll until he was on the bottom. Then he kicked the figure in the stomach and tossed it off of him. They were on their feet again. The figure kicked Dakota between the legs. Dakota doubled over in pain. The figure kicked his head. He groaned as he fell to the ground, gasping for air. The figure bolted for the door.
Sirens blared as the figure ran down the street. An officer leaped out of the van and rushed into the theater. He stopped and knelt beside the body. “Bill, are you okay? Bill? Bill?”
Officer Bill Dakota did not respond.
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An upsetting but still very good chapter.
